Sacrifice
by wertherscaramel
Summary: When the knights of Camelot are on the losing side of a battle, Merlin reveals his magic to all in order to save his king and his kingdom.
1. Chapter 1

Things were going very, very wrong. This much was clear to Merlin as he stood to the side, surveying the scene.

The battle had been raging for nearly two hours now; Arthur and the knights fighting hard, the sounds of steel and of men long since becoming background noise, a groan against the earth. He couldn't see where the opponents were coming from, and they were being overwhelmed.

Merlin knew a decision had to be made; even from here, helping as best he could, he wasn't doing enough. Soon they'd be overtaken, dead, or injured, or captured for slaves, knowing their opponent.

Just then a sharp slicing sound, followed by a cry, hit his ears. His head snapped as he followed the noise, and his stomach sank to his knees. Arthur. Arthur had been fighting, and in half a moment, had been sliced open. Arthur's eyes were wide, his mouth agape, and his hands clearly torn between holding tight to his sword, or holding tight to his guts. He fell to his knees, then face down on the ground, as his attacker shouted in triumph, raising his fists above his head. Time seemed to slow as Merlin watched. He could see blood pooling around Arthur. Leon noticed first, going pale and faltering. He was cut down, too. Percival was next, cut across the legs as he turned to run to Arthur, and from there, Merlin lost track, unable to move, and unable to take his eyes off his dying king.

Their attackers were screaming now, declaring victory. The man who had cut Arthur down was their leader, and he was making it well known. At last, Merlin was able to move. He wanted to sprint to Arthur from his hiding place, but knew that he, too, would end up face down on the ground. Instead, he crawled. His belly pressed to the ground, unable to avoid the blood spilled. The sticks and thorns scratched him, and he knew he'd be bloody as well, but it didn't matter. He made his way towards Arthur, avoiding the glances of the enemy and the grasping hands of his friends, and after an eternity, was next to his king. Merlin took a deep breath, then reached out. Arthur didn't respond to his touch, offered no resistance or help when Merlin pushed to turn him over. He was dead weight.

He was dead. His eyes were blank as they stared up at the sky, his face slack. The life's blood that came from him was a slow seep, not the bright pulsing gush of a man with a heartbeat. Merlin gagged, turned his head away. There was nothing to be done; he had failed his destiny, and failed his king. There was no pain with it yet, only numbness and disbelief. This was broken when a hand grabbed his arm, and he turned to look. It was Gwaine, bloody and beaten, unable even to lift his head from the ground. Merlin watched in horror, grasping his friend's hand, as Gwaine opened his mouth, and nothing but blood came out. Gwaine was dying, too, then.

Merlin had to fix this. This was simply unacceptable; the loss of King Arthur, of all the knights of Camelot, of Camelot itself. It was his duty to ensure that Arthur was alive and well, the greatest king Camelot had ever known. And with that, he knew what he had to do. With Gwaine now dead, Merlin pulled his arm away, and rose to his knees, uncaring of the victors above him. He heard rushing in his ears as he planted his hands palm down on the bloody ground.

It started slowly, a buzz in his fingertips, and it grew. Merlin's eyes flickered gold, then stayed, bright and growing brighter, as he felt his body connect with the ground beneath him. It pulled at him, like the touch of cold glass to skin on a hot day, didn't hurt at first, but it kept pulling. Merlin felt his magic being drawn from him and into the earth, into everything touching the earth. His breath grew shorter, and he attempted to gasp, but drew in nothing more than a choking, strangled breath.

He couldn't stop it, felt it pull and pull, unwinding from within him, stealing his breath and his energy, but he couldn't move, didn't want to move, just wanted it to be over. He didn't know what manner of magic he was doing, but it was deeper than anything he'd done before. Perhaps he wasn't doing it at all, and the earth was using him, now powerless to move, think, breathe. The pain was real now. It was sharp, and his magic cut into him as it left him, spreading away and away, spreading thin, but there was no end to it. There was nothing to hear but the pounding in his ears. Merlin felt his world healing around him. He felt Gwaine's heart start again, a jolt in his gut. He felt Leon's flesh knit itself back together, felt the dozens and dozens of other knights around him and finally, finally, as his lungs burned for oxygen and the pain seared through him, he felt Arthur live again.

He managed to let out a breath, then, and was almost able to draw a new one in, but he didn't have the energy. His eyes were burning, and his hands stuck into the earth. Merlin felt his own heart falter, and he wobbled, now unable to maintain his balance of his own accord. Several of the knights were around him now, all afraid to approach or to touch. Merlin was fading, his power almost completely gone. There was a gasp beside him. Arthur had his eyes open, was looking right at him, clearly saw his eyes bright gold. Merlin didn't know how else he looked, but he knew it was very clear he was doing magic. The world twisted and spun around him, and Arthur pushed himself up onto his elbows. At last, the connection was broken, and Merlin was free. The sound returned to the world, a different sort of chaos than before. Their attackers were gone, Merlin didn't know where. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, and with that, Merlin fell.


	2. Chapter 2

For Arthur, waking up was like crawling out of a pit. He was never a good riser, but this was something else. This pit had crumbling dirt, old roots that didn't bear weight, and something sticky and painful that clung to him and tried to hold him where he was. It was dark. So dark, he couldn't see his hands in front of him, couldn't even tell if his eyes were open, and he hurt all over, especially in his guts. He climbed for hours, until his hands were bloody and raw. He didn't know what he was climbing towards, but he felt himself pulled upwards.

At last, he could see a muddy sort of light above him. There was noise above, familiar. Worried, but not chaotic like the sounds of the battle he vaguely remembered. He had to get there. He dug his hands in, grasped at crumbling roots and kicked against the space beneath him, growing frantic now because the something sticky was holding him tight and he knew that he absolutely had to get up to where his men were, where he could hear them. Finally, as he struggled, he felt something lift him through the muck and into the light, and suddenly found himself on the ground. He gasped, then coughed as he got a mouthful of the dirt and blood still stuck to his face.

It took him several moments to gather his wits about him. At last, he heard a commotion next to him, and rolled to his side. Merlin was kneeling next to him, but not looking at him, and Arthur tried to smile at him, reassure him that he was ok, but he paused. Merlin's eyes were glowing. They were bright gold, and he was in a strange position, his hands gripping the earth beneath him. Arthur could feel the humming in the air, and all of a sudden realized exactly what it all meant.

Merlin was a sorcerer. A powerful one, at that, and he was doing something, changing something. Arthur tensed, ready for an attack, for Merlin to come towards him, but it didn't happen. In fact, it seemed that Merlin couldn't move at all, and Arthur realized that it was Merlin who had brought him up from that muddy pit. It seemed to be Merlin healing all the things around him. His men, men he had seen take a sword, heard the gurgle of their final breaths, were moving, standing, even approaching him. The enemy was nowhere to be seen.

All this was far too much for Arthur to take in at once; his servant, the bumbling, snarky, innocent Merlin, was a sorcerer. The men he had seen die only a short time before were now alive, and he was alive, too. All he could do was stare.

It was then that he noticed that Merlin was not looking well. He had gone gray, he was straining against the earth and his eyes were rolling, and he didn't seem to be getting any air. At last, Arthur managed to draw a breath, to say something to Merlin, and at that moment, Merlin looked at him, his eyes bright shining gold, and fell forward, boneless, onto the ground.

Arthur stared, unable to move and his mouth still agape, for several seconds. It was Gwaine who approached first, shouting Merlin's name, shaking him. Gwaine was covered in blood, a fair bit of it seeming to come from his mouth, but he seemed unharmed now. Elyan was next, and finally Arthur was able to move. He pulled himself on his stomach to Merlin, and reached out, but couldn't quite bring himself to touch him.

The knights were looking to him for direction; it was a quiet sort of chaos, as everyone tried to figure out what the hell had happened to them, and Arthur knew that he would have to take charge. Tearing his eyes away from Merlin's still form, he pushed himself upright, only wavering for a moment, and then stood. His armor was bloody, his chain mail torn, and he knew in that moment that he had been dead, and that Merlin had brought him back to life.

Arthur took a shuddering breath, then called out.

"We need to get back to Camelot. We have been given a second chance, and we will not waste it. Any man who is injured, help him." He listened for calls of injured men, but there was nothing but silence. He looked down at Merlin, still face down on the ground. He didn't know how to address the obvious use of magic by a dead man. "You are all sworn to silence regarding this battle. Now go."

With that, he knelt down to examine Merlin at his feet. Leon helped him turn the boy, and pressed his fingers into Merlin's neck. He paled, and looked to Arthur.

"He lives, sire. Just barely, but Merlin lives."


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur's heart leapt at Leon's words, then sank just as quickly. A living Merlin meant a decision to make. Merlin was a sorcerer, he had used a truly astounding level of magic. And he had used it to save him, and his men. Magic was illegal, under penalty of death. Merlin knew this well, as far as Arthur knew had never used it before. But of course, that was impossible. For anything nearly as powerful as what Merlin had done, he'd have been practicing for years.

He leaned down to feel for himself, and yes, there it was. Weak, faint, but steady. A pulse under Merlin's cold skin. He truly was cold, and Arthur couldn't see that he was breathing until he concentrated. Again, faint, but steady. Not the unpredictable sips and gasps of a dying man. It was still possible, of course, that he would die on the trip back to Camelot, but Arthur knew in his gut that Merlin would live, and Arthur would have to confront him, quite possibly execute him.

Arthur banished the thought from his head, focusing instead on the task at hand. With a nod to Leon, he crouched, and slid his arms under Merlin's. Leon took his legs, and they lifted in unison, carrying the boy over the bloodied ground to one of the carts. They lay him in carefully, cradling his head. Arthur wanted to get in beside him, watch over him as they traveled, but he knew that he could not. He had to lead his men, certainly couldn't be seen as leaving his men to their own devices in order to watch over his servant, no matter how well-known it was that they were closer than most masters and servants.

"Gwaine." he called out, "You'll stay with Merlin for now. Tell me immediately if he wakes, we'll bind his wrists if he does." Gwaine gave him a dubious look, but Arthur's tone had made it clear that there would be no argument. Once he was certain that Merlin was settled safely, Arthur mounted his horse, and made his way to the front to lead his men home.

Gwaine tied his horse to the wagon, and climbed aboard. It was too small, really for two men, but Gwaine would make due. He settled himself down near Merlin's head, placing a hand on the boy's cool, pale cheek. It was unnerving, how still Merlin was. Merlin was always in motion, always toiling, or griping or smiling, and never so still or pale. Gwaine checked his breathing again, and took some comfort. It would be a long and cramped ride back to Camelot, and Gwaine wasn't sure if he wanted Merlin to wake, or not.

He woke with a start as the wagon hit a rut, reaching down immediately to check on Merlin. He had been jostled, head to the side in what would surely leave him with a sore neck when he woke (if he woke), and limbs askew. Gwaine straightened him gently, his skin still startlingly cold.

It was a few minutes later that Merlin stirred of his own accord, not as shocking as Gwaine had expected. Instead, Merlin let out a soft groan, his face twisting in a grimace. Gwaine set a hand on Merlin's shoulder to steady him, keep him still, if needed, and waited.

After a moment, Merlin's eyes opened, unfocused and confused. He looked around sluggishly, clearly trying to figure out where he was. His eyes landed on Gwaine, and he breathed a barely audible sigh of relief.

"You're alive." Merlin's words were almost inaudible. "Did it work? Arthur?" And that was all he could manage. Gwaine was hunched down low near Merlin's face, trying to hear him, to comfort him, but he was afraid to alert anyone else to the fact that Merlin had woken.

"He's fine, Merlin. Arthur's fine. You've done well, but he knows. You've got magic, everyone saw, Merlin…" He trailed off. He had suspected for some time that Merlin had magic, and it did not concern him, but he knew full well that it was a very dangerous thing for Merlin himself.

With these words, Merlin's look of relief turned to one of fear. He shook his head, tears filling his eyes, and Gwaine took his hand, and held the other against Merlin's cheek. He would fight for his friend, of course. He would find some way to keep him safe.

It wasn't long before exhaustion overtook Merlin again, and he slept once more, this time for the remainder of the long ride back to Camelot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note-** So sorry for the long wait between updates! I'm doing my best, but it's finals season, and that takes precedence, as you may imagine.

Many thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed, and especially reviewed! I'm new to the world of writing fan fiction, and it's a huge encouragement to me. Please keep it coming and let me know how I'm doing, I only want to improve! Thanks for reading!

* * *

Merlin was huddled just below the surface of himself, held fast by the thick tar of unconsciousness. He was bone weary, unable even to think, to remember what had happened. He could feel the world moving around him, moving him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. For now, he would stay here, underneath himself, resting.

He could hear voices around him, unrecognizable at first, then Leon, Arthur, Gwaine. There were hands touching him, not unkindly. All he could see was the foggy gray nothingness surrounding him for miles, and he thought maybe there should be something else, but he couldn't remember if there ever had been, or if it had always been like this.

He went along this way, listening, the sounds growing sharper around him but still unable to move. He could feel himself set into a cart and felt someone crawl in next to him, and then it was quiet, save for the sounds of what he now remembered to be Arthur and his men moving around him.

There was a hard thud, and Merlin felt himself bounce a bit in the cart, and the pain from his head hitting the wood was enough to jolt him, shake him from the thick. Now he remembered. He had seen Arthur die, seen his friends die, and he had used magic. Stronger than he'd thought he was capable of, stronger even than he knew was possible. He had opened the doors to the next world and allowed this one to draw his friends back out. But the world demanded a ransom, and he had been pulled under, nearly pulled through. But he was here now.

Someone moved him; gently, with care and rough, calloused hands. Not Arthur, nor Percival, but other than that, Merlin couldn't tell. He was back in himself now, no longer hiding or huddling. He was cold, as he'd never been before, down to his bones, as though his body couldn't quite bring itself to circulate his blood just yet. He grimaced as he felt the ache, deeper than the cold. The only explanation he could think of was the magic, the way the earth had taken hold of him and used him until he nearly was no more.

He managed to force his eyes open, but they wouldn't cooperate, wouldn't focus. He could see the green of the trees above him, and blue sky. Dark, shaggy hair to his right. Gwaine. Merlin saw more clearly now with something to look at, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Gwaine was fine, Arthur was fine. Everyone was all right, and he was alive.

Then the news that Arthur had seen him do magic, that he knew the secret Merlin had worked so hard to keep, struck him like a ton of bricks. Everything he had done, his very destiny itself, was now for naught.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and although Gwaine reached down to comfort him, Merlin had never felt so lost, so very alone, in his life.

Merlin could think of nothing in these moments but the life he'd had, the people he cared for. He wanted to live, to see Gaius, Gwen, his mother, anyone again. Perhaps he would; perhaps Arthur would keep him in the dungeons for some time before burning him, but he knew he would be burned.

At last, unconsciousness took him again, and he welcomed it as it welcomed him.

They reached Camelot just before dusk, having hardly stopped for more than a moment, to feed the horses or drink a bit of water. The entire campaign, regardless of whether they had witnessed the event, now knew that Merlin, Arthur's personal servant, had used magic. And not just any magic, but the most powerful magic anyone had seen. The king was quiet on his mount, speaking no more than necessary to get them where they were going safely.

As his men disbursed, Arthur waited behind, nodding to Leon and Percival. This was a matter that needed to be dealt with privately. They met Gwaine, who looked stiff and surly.

"Did he wake at all?" Arthur asked. Merlin was still limp and pale, laying unmoving in the cart. Gwaine paused.

"For a moment, sire, but not long enough for me to alert you." He figured a small white lie wouldn't hurt; after all, Merlin had only woken the one time, and hadn't done anything but ask whether the men were all right. Arthur said nothing in response, but moved to pull Merlin from where he lay. Percival helped him, soon had Merlin over his shoulder, and looked to Arthur.

It took a long moment. Arthur hadn't actually decided whether he would be taking Merlin to Gaius' chambers, or to the dungeons, but now he had to make a decision.

"Bring him down to the dungeons. He may not be awake now, but he could be dangers when he regains consciousness."

If he noticed the discomfort of his men, he said nothing, only led the way. When they reached the entrance, he looked to Leon.

"Go and fetch Gaius, tell him that he must do everything in his power to ensure Merlin's full recovery. It is a matter of the safety of your king." Arthur looked at Merlin, slung over Percival's shoulder. "Tell him nothing else. I will explain, if need be."

With that, they made their way into the dark halls of the dungeons. Arthur selected an open cell near the entrance. They lay Merlin down onto the wooden bench, and Arthur bent to examine him. He hadn't looked as closely as he should have before, but it seemed to him that Merlin's breathing was stronger now. His skin was still cool to the touch, but not as deathly cold as it had been. This comforted Arthur; he didn't want Merlin to suffer. If, in the end, he found he did need to execute his manservant, it would be in as humane a way as possible.

They sat in silence for long minutes, Arthur unable to take his eyes off of Merlin's still form. He was silent on the outside, and tearing apart on the inside. He wanted Merlin awake, so he could question him, find out how he could hide such a thing as sorcery from him for so long. Another part of him wanted Merlin to stay asleep, to stay out of Arthur's grasp, and leave him alone with the devastation and betrayal. After all, could there truly be any answer, any excuse for such a thing? For now, Arthur would not know the answer. King or not, he would simply have to sit and wait.


	5. Chapter 5

Leon had knocked on Gaius' door, solemn and a bit pale, and explained as best he could that Arthur required his services in the dungeons, that it was Merlin being kept down there. Gaius knew right away that that did not bode well for his ward; surely if he had simply been injured, Leon would have been willing to give him the details, but instead, Gaius followed behind, unspeaking.

If the journey to the dungeons had been quiet, it was nothing compared to the scene when he arrived. Merlin was layer out on the bench provided for prisoners in what was surely an uncomfortable position. He was pale and limp, clearly had been set down by someone else, not by his own volition. Arthur was standing over him, against the wall in an imitation of a casual stance, but clearly tense and on edge, watching his servant for any signs of wakefulness.

Gwaine and Percival stood on the other side of the room, but instead of looking at Merlin, they watched Arthur. Gwaine's face was set into hard lines, and he twitched even as Gaius watched. Something had happened, while they'd been away. More than mere injury, or an argument. He knelt next to Merlin, feeling his forehead, looking for any sign of movement.

"What happened to him, sire?" he asked Arthur, not turning towards him. "He is as cold as ice."

Arthur shifted, and cleared his throat. "Merlin has been accused of sorcery. I witnessed it myself. You will see to him, that he may stand trial."

Now Gaius did turn to his king. "Sire," he said gravely, "what manner of magic did Merlin use?"

Arthur stiffened, turning away. "That is of no importance, Gaius. You will treat him here, and inform me as soon as he wakes up."

"Of course, sire." Gaius replied, bowing his head. He turned back to Merlin, checking the pulse at his wrist. Strong, steady, but still no sign of wakefulness in the boy. He would ask Gwaine what had happened later; it was clear by the man's posture that he was desperate to tell.

Gaius tended to Merlin gently, taking his time until Arthur left. He didn't want to question the boy with the king standing there, after all. Gwaine rushed to his side as soon as Arthur had gone, practically babbling at him, but Gaius waved him away. "Not yet, Gwaine. I will listen, but you must wait a moment."

With that, Gaius reached into his bag, pulling out a pungent satchel of herbs. He held them firmly under Merlin's nose. It took several seconds, but Merlin gasped, his eyes slamming open as he spasmed.

Gwaine and Gaius were on him instantly, holding his arms down, a hand on his chest or his forehead. Merlin's eyes rolled in his head as he tried to figure out where he was again, but his mind cleared quickly. He turned to Gaius, eyes wide and staring.

"Gaius." was all he could manage at first, his voice no more than a harsh whisper. "Arthur knows. He knows about me."

"I know, Merlin, it's all right. He'll come to his senses, he's a good man." Gaius held tight to Merlin's hand as Gwaine explained the events of the day. When Gwaine had finished, Gaius looked down at Merlin.

"It is fortunate, then, Merlin, that he saw you saving his life, and the lives of the knights. I expect he will not believe you if you claim to have never used magic before, but hopefully that will be in your favor." Merlin didn't respond, instead squeezing his eyes shut.

Gaius stayed with him that way, near him, and holding him. Merlin was exhausted, almost unable to move, spent from the truly massive feat he had performed earlier. At last, he looked to Gwaine.

"I think it would be best for you to tell the king that Merlin is awake." he said with a nod. Gwaine's brow furrowed, and he pursed his lips, but he went.


End file.
